


Forgotten Faces

by sstasia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Targaryen & Rhaella Targaryen - Freeform, F/M, Lots of fluff actually, Not Canon Compliant, Pregnancy, Targaryen Family Fluff, Targlings (mentioned), Targs Rule Westeros, because there’s not enough love, no Mad Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstasia/pseuds/sstasia
Summary: In which, Daenerys finds something she didn't realize she was looking for.Her family had always been something so lost to her.  Something so removed.  She never really consider that there might still be pieces of it waiting to be found.  Daenerys was always too afraid to look that far back.Who would've known the paintings of the past laid plainly amongst the Castle's secrets?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 78





	Forgotten Faces

The walls this far down in the Keep were cold against her back, the thin dresses of the south did little to accommodate for this. They did however, allow plenty of room for her ever stretching stomach. Two babes proved to be more of a challenge than she had initially anticipated for her tiny frame.

She had managed to curl herself in the corner of the what she could only imagine had once been the dark dungeons of the great Red Keep. Resting carefully against the stony walls, she was far too engrossed in what she’d discovered to pay any mind to the creeping cold nor the approaching footsteps. 

Small kicking feet had made sleep so elusive to her that night. In an effort to ease the aching in her back as well as her rambunctious babes, she had taken to walking. Her midnight escapades offered her more comfort than she had expected, especially considering that they took her away from Jon. But the time alone allowed her some silent moments spent between her and the babes. As she explored her family’s castle she often found herself not only pondering all that was to come, but also all that had been. 

Most of her time in the Keep was spent exploring the glass gardens or the higher balconies that gave an expansive view of the glowing city that now belonged to them. So many heartbeats people that were now hers to protect. Gentle hands would hold onto the stone ledges of the balcony, stretching across the stone in deep thought. Often she would find herself wondering who looked out onto all these people before her, _who had once stood where she now finds herself lingering?_

Of course, her immediate thoughts would call for the face of the Mad Queen to surface. The golden hair of the lioness was now only a glimmer in some of her worst memories; memories she’d rather push far away, and deep down inside her - perhaps as deep as the dungeons of the Keep. 

Other times, her mind would think of her family. Of those she never knew, who ruled the Seven Kingdoms for hundreds of years before the Lady Lannister could ever even dream of a pointy throne. She tried to dream up their faces. All of them so similar to her own, all grateful to wear such heavy crowns, strong, stoic and surrounded by dragons. 

_Fire and Blood, right?_. 

And as quickly as they came, those images would be chased away by screaming wildfire; leaving her clawing at questions she’d never find the answers to. 

Until tonight at least. 

Rather than taking her usual routes to the higher steeples of the castle, something was calling to her from below. She nodded at the Unsullied as she past by, grateful for their constant eyes, ever present even in this newfound time of peace. 

Daenerys slowly shuffled her way to the Dungeons. The place was dark and dusty, unused since the Targaryens had finally taken back, and since destroyed, the Iron Throne. 

She and Jon had found no use for taking any prisoners. Least none to be kept in Red Keep - not now that the Dragon Pits were once again in use.

The walls of the dungeon began to open up to a more expansive portion. She walked with a torch far in front of her cautiously, having been handed one from her Unsullied guard once she turned to enter the lower level of the palace. The flames danced across the red walls, breathing life into the enormous dragon skull that now so perfectly faced her. 

“Balerion..?” It was nothing more than a whisper, made louder by the loneliness lurking in this quiet place. 

_Are you the one who was calling?_

She approached the skull with care, quiet footsteps heedful across unfamiliar tile, fluttering like gentle dragon wings. 

The arrow that was lodged in the dragon’s skull served but a painful reminder of all that was past. Her hand glided across it, rage filling her with each knick against the wood. She had nearly lost everything, Cersei had nearly taken _everything._

A firm kick against the left side of her stomach reminded her otherwise. 

_If I look back I am lost._

Yet, for once, something in her heart - something in her soul - screamed out in disagreement. 

It spoke to her again, beckoning her deeper into the unforgiving dungeons. She followed. 

The corridors shrunk back and she suddenly became aware that she was passing in front of black cells. She couldn’t bear to look in them, didn’t even bother to think of their potential former inmates. 

The walls opened once again, and she began to feel so small amongst the empty corridors. Lost amongst the secrets of the Keep's past. 

There was an odd comfort that followed, something that felt almost familiar to her for reasons seemingly inconceivable. She continued on, studying the open chamber before her. It was filled with things. Old chairs, dusty linens, most of the secrets in the room were further hidden by thick drapes and cloth. She supposed this was meant not to conceal them, but perhaps to protect them? Her curiosity urged her forward a bit, but not enough to actually search beneath the covers. At least until she finally noticed it.

Any other eye might’ve simply glazed over the sigil. It was nearly buried after all, and didn’t seem to showcase anything significant. But her family emblem stood proud against the dark backdrop. 

The three-headed dragon greeted her like an old friend. She gasped at the sudden wave of emotions that coursed through her - nearly running to the paintings as fast as her crowded form would allow any former reluctance long forgotten. 

_Could these be… We’re these her family's lost belongings?_

She nearly scolded herself at the thought. 

_How could she not have considered to look for these immediately upon taking the Keep?_ It never even seemed like a possibility that any of their belongings could have survived the uprising. She never knew Robert herself, but she never took him to be the type to preserve anyone’s history but his own, no matter how significant it may be.

Her family had always been something so lost to her. Something so removed. She never really consider that there might still be pieces of it waiting to be found. Daenerys was always too afraid to look that far back. 

She tore back the linens that covered nearly all of the artifacts below. She was greeted with several silver sigils in all forms: banners, jewels, engraved in the backs of chairs and china, even embroider across gowns and the corners of bedsheets. 

All things long forgotten. 

Paintings were littered amongst the items too. Faces that should be familiar staring back at her, stealing her very breath away. 

She knew it was Aegon before even reading the inscription. He was flanked by both Visenya and Rhaenys and _Oh, how they looked so different than she’d always imagined._ Yet, a part of them looked so the same. 

Various faces of valyrian features all stared up at her, she couldn’t take them in fast enough. 

Daemon, Dunacn, Alysanne, Jaehaerys, Aemon, Nearys, Baelor, Daeron, Aneys, Eleana. 

And then suddenly- 

_Oh._

She had to read his name before she realized it was him. Cold eyes stared up at her now, with a face so unlike her own. 

Aerys.

Something in her blood ran cold at the thought of him. The thought of what he’d done, what he’d cost them all. Yet, a part of her struggled to pull her eyes away - another face she’d always dreamed of but never knew. His features were sharper than she’d imagined, eyes cunning and wild even through the heavy oil paints. She traced his silver hair lightly, shivering slightly before she pushed his portrait to the side, eager to get of glimpse of any that lie behind him. 

Rheagar. 

She knew it was him before she even bothered to glance at the inscription as well. His deeps indigo eyes looked back at her with such a weight in them, there was something about his face remind her oh so much of Jon it hurt. Every aspect of his profile was that of her husbands. His eyes, however, held a mellow mirth she’d only seen in Jon’s as of late, and his features told the tale of a different background altogether. 

A Prince, proud a strong. That’s what he was, that’s what he looked like. A part of her distantly tried to draw comparisons between his face and her own. Desperate for some sort of connection to the brother she never knew. The brother that was _good._

Her fingers danced along the edges of the portrait. She wanted to pull it closer, to study him closer. However, as she moved her brothers painting it only gave light to the one lingering beneath it still, waiting for her. 

She gasped. 

Heart stopping as Rheager’s portrait slide to the floor in a quiet scratch, her hands now busy clutching at her heart, eyes encapsulated by the face in the portrait staring up at her with such sad eyes.

Rhaella.

It was a beat before she even noticed the burning behind her eyes. Her hand now pressed tightly against her mouth to keep them from falling, watering eyes ripped across the painted face as if they couldn’t take it in fast enough.

_Muna._

She had imagined her mother’s face her whole life. The softness in her eyes, roundness of her nose, the curve of her jaw and the gentle smile it would hold. 

It was all so different. It was all so the same. 

Her mother’s face was not unlike her own, not in the ways her father’s was. There was a certain regalness her features held - one Daenerys could only hope to someday possess. Her eyes were gentle and gleamed a soft lilac. She tried to imagine them looking at her with pride. She tried to imagine them looking at her with _love_.

She lifted the painting gently shuffling to bring it closer to her - to try and feel closer to _her._

And that was how he found her. 

Curled quietly in the corner of a dingy dungeon. With tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, as she traced the features of the Targaryen staring up at her. 

She still hadn’t seemed to take notice of his presence, far to immersed in the painting before her to be distracted by her surroundings. 

He took a moment to take in the room. To notice all of the heirlooms that engulfed them. The weight of the objects seemed to make the space shrink twice in size. 

He knew that sigil anywhere, and the faces that followed seemed to stare at him now with a newfound gravity in their gaze. 

He took a deep breath before turning back to her, one loud enough to properly draw her attention. The depth of the scenario finally settled with him as their eyes met. 

“Jon.” It was a weighted whisper, calling out for him. It wasn't long before he was at pressed firmly at her side pulling her small frame against him still mindful of the protruding belly. 

“I know.” He whispered back into her silver curls. 

Except he didn’t really. He couldn’t really. He would never know exactly what this meant for her, how it tore her up and sewed her back together at the same time. He kissed her hair as he felt her silent tears soaking into his linens. "I know." He whispered again, a comforting lie. 

“She’s so different,” she started, her voice strong despite the tears. “They’re all so different. They’re so much more than I could have ever imagined.”

He took in the portrait then, the women's name stabbing into him more sharply than her features ever could. 

“She looks so much like you Dany.” It was all he could say, the only words he could find. He felt his own throat begin to tighten as he took in the face of Rhaella Targaryen. He was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of gratefulness, muffled only by concern for how Dany might be feeling. 

She laughed lightly at his remark, fingers fanning across Rhaella’s features as if she were trying to memorize them. “She’s very beautiful.” It was all she could offer in return. It hurt almost too much to think about the similarities she may share with her mother. A sudden eagerness to distract from this pain, to focus on something else, _to have him focus on something else,_ became suddenly overwhelming. 

“Rhaegar,” She stared, tearing her eyes away from her mothers. “There’s a portrait of him too. He looks so like you Jon. You, you have to see.”

“Hush.” He pulled her back into him and off of the stone wall, shutting down any moves to stand up, to step away from this moment. Distantly, he thought of all the times he would stare up at Lyanna’s statue. Wondering if the grey stone did her any justice, of it at all reflected what she might’ve actually looked like, he’d close his eyes trying to imagine what she might’ve sounded like. It hurt. It hurt in its own cathartic sort of way. The pain of having to imagine it a voice, realizing you would never really know even the sound of your name on their lips. 

You’d never really know quite what they looked like, what they sounded like when they were happy, what it felt like to be held in their strong sturdy arms, what it felt like to be loved by them. 

His heart broke for Daenerys. He’d always known that she was as much in the dark with these concepts as much as he. Perhaps even more so, she'd never known anyone else in her family save a damaged brother and only recently him. But to suddenly and unexpectedly relive an entire lifetime of pain and wanting as she was now? To have it all thrust to the surface so quickly and so unexpectedly - it had to be overwhelming. Devastating.

“I want to look at Rhaella, just a bit more.” He finally breathed into her hair. Keeping her held tightly against him as he kissed the side of her face, chin coming to rest on her shoulder as they gazed at the painting together. 

He felt her shaking lightly beneath his hold, prompting him only to pull her in further as if it were possible. He didn’t think they could ever be close enough. She leaned her cheek against his then, drawing one of his hands up higher and resting it carefully atop her bump. 

He felt subtle movements flex beneath his fingers, and he pressed his grin into the side of her face in a sloppy kiss.

“They know how special this is too.” He landed on, pulling back only slightly to try and catch her gaze. She smiled tenderly, it shown more in her eyes than on her lips. 

“I suppose this really is a gift,” She started, finally turning to meet his gaze, his eyes full of a love so deep she was afraid she might just fall into them. “To know what she might’ve looked like, what they all might’ve looked like. To really know....” 

She drifted off, eyes turning back to the painting. 

“It might never be enough.. but it certainly is a start.” He finished for her. She smiled at his words, nodding lightly in sad agreement. 

They both paused. The unspoken curiosity as to what could have possibly been lingering in the air between them. It was not a subject worth broaching. They both knew it was beyond an impossibility, and thoughts like that would only harbor hurt. There was now so much more to look forward too than to look back on. Daenerys had built so much in her life to be so lost in the past. 

“She would be proud.” He whispered, hand rubbing protectively across her stomach. “Proud of everything you’ve become, all you achieved. You brought our family back together Daenerys, and now you’re the one restoring it.” 

She turned to him carefully, shifting her weight in his arms to lift a hand up and cup his cheek. 

“We’re doing it. _We’re_ bringing our family back, we’re restoring it all - together.” 

Her words brought unbidden tears to his eyes as well. It was a fact they already both knew, but perhaps had laid unspoken between them since their first night spent in the Keep. He smiled sweetly, kissing her near desperately before pulling back struck with a sudden thought. 

“Let’s have them all hung. Lining the halls to the Throne Room so no one will ever forget the faces of House Targaryen.” 

Her grin ate up her face at the end of his words. She answered him with another loving kiss, hands pulling against his neck to draw them just that much closer. He was now certain they truly never could be close enough. 

“And all the faces that are yet to come.” She finished for him this time, pulling away for a moment of air, and to settle the unbearable weight that had surrounding them since he pulled her into him and away from the cold stone. 

He pictured them than. A little girl that looked just like Dany ( _just like Rhaella_ ) with silver hair and strong violet eyes, and a little boy with the same curls and gentle gray eyes shining up at him. It was now him that harbored the face splitting grin. 

They stayed like that for a bit longer, basking in each others presence and the newfound faces of their past, time spent looking through each and every portrait. He helped her to stand sometime close to the hour of the ghost, supporting her lower back and in turn the children that rested upon it. 

He caught a glimpse of his father’s face as they sought out a warmer room, one filled with familiar sheets. 

He could’ve sworn there was a look of pride in his violet eyes. 

Jon smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. 
> 
> So this was originally supposed to be the beginning of Chapter Five for one of my other works, but I kind of got carried away. This got far too big for me to use effectively in that timeline, so alas we get a one-shot!
> 
> I'm really not sure how you guys are going to take this little ficlet because it is so random and fluffy and has no real substance whatsoever - but I really feel like the show runners never gave any attention to the fact that Daenerys has so many unanswered questions about her past. Obviously, as viewers were very aware of that fact, but we never see that as something that she has to grapple with or overcome - at least, not as deeply as I would like to. ~always trying to get that content~ 
> 
> Anyways, I feel like there was always a firmer focus on Jon and how he deals with those demons, now granted that still was not even nearly deep enough if you ask me but that's another oneshot of a different time. But never really a focus on Dany and like fuck that. Even in a lot of the works I read now I feel like Jon gets a lot of the attention there and not Daenerys and like my girl lowkey needs some closure too. So anyways I hope that there are some of you out there that enjoyed this


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